A/N: I wrote this a while back, I forgot I had it on my comp

I won't give in to my pain

My agonized muscles and disdain

Allotted by my less-than-quality mat.

I almost kneel to the ground

As my heart continues to pound

And my body threatens to drop flat.

I bought konamix hardly weeks ago

And completed many songs although

It's harder than the 4th mix at the square.

If I cant keep the selfsame beat,

Or if I lose step in my scooting feet

The blue flash of failure threatens to glare.

I know I can always try again, and yet,

My body gets more tired the farther I get,

Regardless of my will or drive.

It's not the same as the arcade machine

It's almost a pity to be seen

As my legs seem less and less alive.

But I found ways to regain my fire

Ways to douse my blistering ire

From losing so easily after winning

Ways to better my skill at home

Rather than finding arcades to roam

I will use them to rise above my scores skimming.

My dance pad's low quality, yes,

An easy method one would guess

Is to buy another one.

But the one that I've got

Will surrender to naught

When my stabilizing pad doctoring's done.